An extension of love.

I’ve spoken a lot about my relationship with my son and occasionally I’ve mentioned having a ‘little brother/newest son’ in our lives. We have talked a great deal about what that would mean and why a ‘younger brother” and not an Older bro or even Uncle (because I was not opposed to those other two ideas either) was the choice we were going to make together. To explain it better, I want to tell you about last night.

My son and I were in bed, or I should say ON the bed. We lay there, in the most intimate of ways without it being sexual. Touching, kissing and talking. I reminded him of some things I said when we met years ago, when we first began. He was incredibly sensitive and ticklish and would jump and giggle constantly at my touch. I told him that as time went on and he came to understand that I loved every inch of him and his skin got used to being touched, he would stop being ticklish in that way. I said this as I gently traced my fingers across his ribs and he didn’t jump, only smiled. 

We talked about how we and our bodies have changed over time. I reminded him of our first conversation about what I found attractive about him, what made me want to be with him. I had told him way back then that the ‘thing’ I loved about him was Him, his truest deepest self and I could see it clearly even back then. Each moment is a snapshot, each love unique to that time, and our love evolves with each new ‘snapshot’ as we’ve grown and changed over the years. I loved the young, wide eyed him whose world changed being with his Daddy just as much as I love the him who’d grown into such the extraordinary person I now call my Son. What has remained constant is the ‘him’ that I loved. It was never about the outside features or the obvious personality traits, I was always in love with the him he was deep inside, the him he would become if he was nurtured, cared for and protected.

I asked him: Thinking back to when we began, could you have imagined the person you’d become today? 

He said: “No. I really couldn’t have seen it back then.”

I Said: That person, the one you are now, is the one I saw within you ten years ago. You’ve grown into an amazing, compassionate, wonderful, kind and gentle person with an incredible capacity for love. I knew he was within you the moment I set eyes on you the very first time we met in person. It was him, the real you, that I was in love with. I love the you that you were on every step of this journey.

He said: “That’s why I want to find a younger brother. Because I want to see you do that. I’ve felt it, but I want to watch you and him as it happens over time.”

I sat there for a while, his head snuggled against mine, and I was very quiet. We never break physical contact when talking like this, even on hot summer days we still hold hands. We’d spoken at great lengths in the past, deciding what it would be like to have someone in our lives on that level and he’d told me that he (it was actually his idea) wanted to give someone the opportunity to share our life together. He wanted to share our world, not just our bed (that was a very far distant second), with someone. It hit me VERY hard to hear him put it this way. The clarity, honesty, and reality of that desire to watch and participate in the process as I’d been with him. Even as I write this down, I’m a little more than misty eyed because it means the culmination of the journey that brought us here. I couldn’t be more proud, happy or deeply grateful for the incredible gift of our time together but especially of this moment.

He’d become a Daddy in the most important senses and for all the right reasons. He didn’t want to step into the role as much as he wanted it to happen again for someone else. He wanted to remain my son but, on a deeper level, to be a partner in sharing that with another person. It meant now that his ‘submission’ was complete. He was my full equal, and chose to be my son. I would happily have reversed the roles in the situation he described, where we had that ‘other son’ in our lives. I’d have taken the Grandfather/patriarch role and helped guide him through the troubled times that can happen between a Daddy and his son. That was not at all what he wanted. He wanted me to be a Daddy for another boy, one who needed someone like me, and to share our lives and that process of growth with him.

What do you say to that?  I didn’t know how to respond really. It had always been something more than a sexual fantasy to me because the greatest joy I could imagine would be having a happy boy in each arm as we drifted off to sleep. It is a very powerful image in my mind because it made me acutely aware that there was indeed a space in our lives that wouldn’t diminish our connection to each other but amplify the love we shared. 

The idea is nuanced but not very complicated. It even has a corollary in the outside world: That of two parents who decide to have a child. That decision changes the binary (two person) relationship into a ‘tri-nary’ (three way ) relationship without changing the love that made the addition of that third possible. It means that we both would love him equally as he would love us both equally in return in our own special ways  as each love is unique. This boy would not only have a Daddy but he would also have a Big Brother to care for him. Everything equal, everything shared, all responsibilities equally maintained, and even intimate times together would be that same way. 

Those times where we were intimate, would not be confined by any  ‘rule’ like Daddy has to be there or any variation of that. He and I would be allowed to be as intimate or sexual with our new family member at any time without judgement or jealousy so long as it never became strictly a one on one where the other was ignored or shut out from those times. No exclusivity but equality in its place. He would be able to cuddle with just Daddy or his brother without jealousy or any feelings of guilt for not sharing at that time because he’d be able to invite his brother to join as he felt just as much as my son would be free to join or leave it one on one between his brother and his Daddy.

It would be a perfect balance of freedom, caring, companionship, mutual understanding and protection. He and I are both very real people. That means flawed, fragile at times, and imperfect. I make no pretense about being a deified ideal Daddy. I only present myself as I am just as he would because to lie about such would break what could be real because fantasy wore thin. We aren’t interested in a fling, those aren’t our way. We want forever, and to give someone a chance to step into that willingly and to join our world. We’re after happily ever after and in for all the hard work that means to bring into reality.

This is what it means to be with Daddy, and what it would mean to join us as our newest family member. I’m not too old now to consider spending another ten years helping a boy grow into a son or Daddy as he chose when the journey was ‘complete’ as it is now with my Son and I.

A question and an answer about Trust and safety in a D/s relationship.

Anonymous asked:

do you have any advice for a boy who has trouble trusting that daddy doesn't want to hurt him and that daddy will listen if he needs to talk? I've had bad experiences in the past and it's making it hard to accept the good that exists now.

First: A bit in general.
There are many aspects to a Dad/son relationship but two of the biggest is consent and cooperation. Even in a purely sexual play time only agreement, those two things are paramount and even more important than the actual sex involved. They become critical if it becomes your full time life and you live with your Daddy, as my son does with me. In the case of full time, sex is barely 10% of the time you will spend together. The rest must be based on those two things almost as much as Trust. Trust is a cornerstone and the ‘corners of the foundation’ (Trust, Consent, Cooperation, Caring) can’t function without it. You can have a mix, but it doesn’t build anything stable. 

Because trust is so vital a part of the situation, it is also the most fragile and most difficult to re-construct once broken. It takes much more dedication to restoring trust and that effort can never be one sided. If you and your Daddy aren’t working TOGETHER to restore trust once damaged and the strengthening the communication necessary for those four pieces to work in harmony again then the desire to be together is one sided.

The only way to remove them from the equation is to NOT have a relationship outside the bedroom play activities and simply establish ground rules and safe words. I want to stress this HEAVILY right now. A ‘safe word’ is not a guideline, it’s not a joke and it is an absolute must when engaging in play that goes beyond simple sex. In my opinion (and that of most other Daddies) it is absolutely beyond redemption on the part of a Dom to break that trust and ignore the safe words use. It is very important to the boundaries of the relationship and its use by the boy should never be over used. It can’t come at the first flinch or it’s meaningless. If you follow the analogy of the safe word, you begin to see where trust is established, cemented and secured. It is in co-operation and mutual respect as much as communication and trust. 

Now that I’ve lectured enough on the importance of trust in any kind of relationship, even in a purely sexual one that involves more than sex, I’ll try to answer your question as best as I can. It’s hard for me to answer things like this because it truly makes me sad when a boy has something like this happen to him. 

My advice is this:
Never give up hope. Never stop trying. Never, ever, give up on your self respect to fill that need in the short term. It truly isn’t worth it. You are of infinite value to the right Daddy, and being able to trust him is important to a long lasting relationship. This means hard truths as well. If there is a very long history and a strong relationship before the past (not knowing what happened to cause the loss of trust i’m shooting in the dark here) then it may be worth fighting for depending on what happened. Broken trust and a broken heart walk hand in hand and the only way to heal both of them is with time and effort. Remember as well, if it wasn’t you who broke that trust, then it isn’t you who is responsible or needs to bear the guilt for it NO MATTER what the other person might say or if they try to push those things on you. Those aren’t healthy behaviors and are warning signs of real danger.

If you believe, deep down, that you need a Daddy you can trust but you can’t now (or ever will) trust the daddy that you are with now, then you have to make the choice to be alone and work on your ability to trust by yourself. I do not pretend to be an expert on healing a broken heart but having had mine broken my fair share and having seen what lost trust does to people, I know what I’ve seen help. Live as fully as you can. Laugh often and have faith in yourself. Hope for the best to come your way soon because it just may. Until that day you have to make yourself ready by respecting yourself, taking pride in your desire to be a boy for a daddy who is worthy of it and to risk that broken heart by never giving up on love or the chance to share it. If you find yourself feeling lonely or just needing to cuddle and cry: buy yourself a soft plush teddy bear and don’t hesitate to hug as tight as you need and to cry as much as it takes to get it out of your system. he can take it, just like a real Daddy can. 

I may be completely wrong, not knowing more, but that is the basics of my advice on broken trust for both Daddies and boys. I hope, in at least some small way, my words reach you and help you stand up a little bit taller and a little bit faster than you might have without them.

Daddy's thoughts on Chastity Devices.

Chastity devices aren’t something that I personally use because I approach it in different way. They are most often used to encourage the boys focus on the subject of his attentions rather than being distracted by his own erection. While I will agree that a focused boy, who isn’t dividing his efforts between his pleasure and mine, does a far better job of pleasing his Daddy I find there are other ways to encourage that focus without mechanical assistance. 

Chastity is a part of the Domination/submission for many because it removes that ability and eventually the will to do so. While Dad and son is a form of Domination/submission because of the power exchange, I tend to prefer more ‘Daddy’ methods than ‘Dom’ methods. For some boys torture/tease/spankings and the like aren’t really punishments because they are aroused by them. That defeats their purpose in my mind and so I choose a different route to accomplishing that goal.

Rather than removing their ‘locus of control’ as part of the power exchange, I use my position to shape their behavior over time through reward and withdrawal of reward. It’s a behavioral modification technique similar to operant conditioning and behavior extinction programs. My personal background is in that field of study, so I’m well versed in designing ‘lesson plans’ that involve subtle changes over a period of time until the boy has learned self control. It is not an instantaneous result as with a chastity device but I personally enjoy it more. In my experience you can accomplish the same goal without the device right up to (and including) the edging like orgasm when they are finally ‘given permission’ to do so

Every boy begins with one flaw, his innate desire for immediate gratification. As we grow into adults the delay or denial of that gratification becomes a powerful motivator for behavioral change. I apply guided direction, a system of reward and removal of reward not punishment because my goal is to give the skills of self control to the boy. I want to assist him in attaining self mastery, which is why his desire to accomplish this is critical. I don’t ‘explain’ what I’m doing, because even from his perspective you’d never see it without knowing what to look for..
Consent is my biggest point of arousal. Submission is consent but submission without will behind it is surrender, and that is not my goal at all. “Do anything you want” does nothing for me, but when a capable boy who is in control of himself submits to my control, THAT is a heady aphrodisiac. In the context of a different relationship where that kind of play is part of things, sure, I would use one, but my goal would remain the same: to train a boy into a fully realized son.

I remember you: a memory of loss.

I write a version of for coming out day every year, I tell it a different way each time but the truth is in each one. This is the story of a boy and a Daddy. 
—————————————————————————————————
I remember you.

3am and the phone rings. 

“Daddy I can’t sleep. Can you talk to me until I fall asleep. you’re voice makes me feel safe.”

What the hell could I say? No? What kind of Daddy would I be if I let that happen when I could change it just by talking until you slept. Camera’s on, two nightlights in different parts of the world making a conduit so you could see my smile as we talked about the weather. I talked and talked even when I started to cry because I could see you’d been crying. You tried to hide it, but that wouldn’t be possible from me. The red around your eyes, the way you couldn’t smile. I wanted to punch my hand through the glass and pull you through into my arms. I fucking couldn’t. I’m only Daddy no matter how much I needed to be more hearing you sob quietly as you turned to bury your face in that pillow so far away. 

There was nothing I could do. All I could do was talk, be as gentle and warm as I could to try to drive away the demons. You wouldn’t tell me what happened or why you’d been crying so much before you called me that night. I have never broken so completely, my heart, my soul my mind and my body everything was shattered to see you like that.

There were still miles to go before morning and I wasn’t going to leave you until the sun rose and you were no longer in the dark or crying quietly as you tried to sleep. On and on it went until you started to get the heavy eyes that come before falling asleep. You whispered into the dark what we did anytime we were talking and about to fall asleep.


“I love you Daddy”

“I love you too son”.

At last you’d begun to fall asleep as if saying our nightly ritual was enough to help you finally let go of your burden. I talked more still but I could still hear quiet sobs in your half sleep, like some dream was torturing you still. I don’t know why I’d never done it before, but I started to sing quietly because I couldn’t think of any other way to stop you crying in your sleep. Something in the words or the sound of my voice made you curl up a little and relax.  I sang and talked and did anything I could think of until I finally heard the crying stop and at last be replaced with those little happy noises you made when I talked you to sleep. You didn’t toss and turn anymore and had a gentle smile on your face as you rolled over to face the phone. You were so tired that you didn’t wake up when the thing crashed off your headboard and onto the bed next to you.

Exhausted I began to fall asleep, my head resting against the phone until somewhere between here and morning one of them ran out of power and the connection was lost. I woke, still exhausted, my throat sore. Plugged the phone in on the nightstand , started the coffee, threw myself into the shower to try to make the day happen even though I didn’t want it to. I thought of how adorable you looked when you’d bounce on your bed talking to me when things were good and even as you drifted off last night the memory of those times made me smile. It was my goal to get you there again.

Phone. I hear it ringing and think to myself, it’s too early for anyone to call so it must be my boy. Sure enough his picture filled the screen telling me I was right. 

“Hello there. How are you doing this morning?”

“Who is this?” I’d never heard the voice before and I had to assume it was your mother. She sounded more than a little upset.

“Mrs.XXXXXXXXXXX I presume? I’m XXXXXX, a friend of XXXXX”

“Why does my son have you in his list as ‘daddy’? “ Fuck. This was NOT a conversation I wanted when unprepared. 

“It’s a nickname a lot of friends use for me. Like some people call a family friend uncle, many people just call me Daddy”. 

“Why was my son on the phone with you at 3 am? “ I really wanted to correct her and tell her that I was on the phone with MY son.

“Everyone who knows me knows they can call me at any time if they need someone to talk to. XXXXX sounded like he was sad about something and didn’t want to talk about it, so we talked for a while and he fell asleep. He was exhausted. I apologize if I kept XXXXX up too late but he was so upset when he called that I couldn’t just tell him to go to bed. It wouldn’t have worked and I didn’t mind. It was late sure but I would rather stay up and talk when someone needs a friendly voice or ear than have to cut it short because I was tired.”

I realized I had begun babbling to put some distance between where this started and where it could be heading quickly.  He hadn’t come out to his family, they had no idea because he was terrified they would disown him or worse so he kept it to himself. The tone of her voice changed when she spoke again.

“I’m sorry I don’t know you and shouldn’t assume the worst like that but I had to know. Did he say anything to you about what happened to him when you two were talking last night?”

“To be honest he was upset when he called but didn’t want to talk a whole lot. Mostly wanted to listen and not feel alone I think. I’ve been there enough to know even a small comfort helps.”

“XXXXXXX, I appreciate that, I really do” Her voice was losing composure the more she talked and I began feeling ill. “I should tell you..”

Time stopped. Not one word more. I wouldn’t allow it. I wanted to hang up before she could finish but I couldn’t.

“XXXXXXXX.. he.. he wrote a note..I tried to get him up this morning but even ambulance people couldn’t.. “

I had to quickly put the phone on speaker and mute. There as no way I could speak anymore. Now it was her turn to need someone to talk to. I choked it back and unmuted for a moment.

“Please, start over and tell me from the beginning. I’ll listen and be here as long as you need to talk”.  The rest no longer matters. I couldn’t care anymore. I listened, cried every time she let a detail fall between her own sobs. She had no reason to tell me anything, and every right to hang up, but now I was the voice on the other end who’d listen to her. 

Details were sketchy, he'd left only in a short note written in a halting hand and clearly dotted with tears. He was a social boy, and liked talking to people online and had to quite a few before meeting me. Someone had gotten it into their head to figure out who he was and put the pieces together.  He stalked, no, he hunted my son and took everything from him because he ‘wanted a piece’ of him. It wasn’t last night. It was days ago. We’d spoken since the event and he’d seemed a little distant but that happened occasionally when he had a lot on his mind. I didn’t think anything of it. He was in shock, autopilot and wandering around asleep at the wheel but something changed last night. 

There is a place so dark that nothing, not hope or light or love, can reach you. It comes when you give up, when you believe you aren’t worth the effort anymore. It is a terrible, horrible place to be. I know. I’ve been there before. He reached it last night and apparently took far too much of one thing mixed with another and decided to call me. I would rather have been shot over and over ALL over my body than hear those words. I listened to her talk for a few more minutes before her husband called for her to come down stairs. We said goodbye and I hung up not on her, but on the world.  I was done listening for a long while. No one had anything to say that I wanted to hear in the deafening silence left by no more “Daddy I love you” at night.

********************************************************************************

This story is not entirely fiction, it is in fact almost entirely true. I’ve only changed a few details so it is unrecognizable to anyone who might read it.  

if you, or someone you know has experienced sexual violence, please give them (or call yourself) the numbers below. Help them by being there for them, listen, be the shoulder and the ear, and never EVER excuse your inaction by saying “it gets better’ without helping them make it be better. It does, but you have to have support and to work for it every day. You can’t let hope slip through your fingers, cant’ give up on love or yourself because you’re more precious than you can imagine. Sight unseen there is someone out there who is dreaming of someone like you, just as you have been of them.

It is my secret, the life I lost, but it’s in his memory that I tell our story as a warning. You can’t always tell when something is wrong, which is why it’s important to be the right kind of help for someone who may not realize they need it. Be the same friend you already are but if you know something has happened like this, don’t let them go it alone. Teach yourself to find the resources, find clinics that have support groups, help them reconnect to life if you can. If you can’t; then give them the tools and be there to support them as much as you can. Make sure they know they aren’t alone in the night, even if means a late night phone call.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: Call 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

RAINN: 1-800-656-HOPE